The End of a Dream
by Falling Further
Summary: It has been years since the final episode of iCarly, but only now is Freddie forced to come to terms with something that he had been told many times. He refused to believe it for fear that his heart would break. Perhaps it will. Creddie-flavored
1. The Late Arrival

Author's Note: I wanted to try something other than a sappy, romantic fic, so I sat down and wrote this in basically one go. I expect this to be a short series of 3-5 chapters when all is said and done. That being said, this is probably going to come out slowly as I'm currently addicted to two different video games. I'm also not familiar with writing in this category, so all feedback is appreciated doubly.

Standard Disclaimer: This fanfic is intended as a writing exercise with no desire or hope of profit.

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Chapter 1: The Late Arrival

He stepped out of the black Ford Focus, taking an anguished look at how far he had to walk. Even this parking spot, leagues away from where he intended to be, had been close to impossible to find, requiring at least a mile's worth of intense eye strain. After the customary long drive stretch (that ridiculous one where someone hops around while contorting their back at odd angles), he attempted to straighten his clothing out with his hands, and began the long trek.

It was a gorgeous day by most people's standards. The weather was warm, not humid, with a comfortable breeze kicking in occasionally. The sun was out, but partially covered by fluffy, white clouds. He would have probably enjoyed it immensely if his mood wasn't so foul. His thoughts remained mired in unfocused misery for his entire trip to the beautifully maintained green field.

Dodging the mass of people, Freddie took determined steps towards the upraised pavilion where most of the guests seemed to be gathering. He ducked low underneath an arch of flowers that provided entry into the shrubbery encircled area, but he could not evade the pungent aroma of the hanging roses. The smell hung in his nose, as though it was begging him for his attention and adoration. Unfortunately for the roses, all of his attention and adoration had belonged to only one person since grade school. She noticed him at that moment, and immediately ceased her conversation with a well-dressed older gentleman. His heart began to race as she charged towards him as quickly as she could in a flowing white dress. The brightness of her smile almost chased away the shadow that had been gnawing at his heart.

Carly almost knocked him over as she crashed into him and wrapped her arms around his neck. From their entangled position, it was impossible for Freddie to see her face, but he could hear the tears in her voice as she whispered, "I almost didn't think you were going to come."

Freddie swallowed down the thickening in his throat before answering evenly, "I wouldn't miss the happiest day in your life for anything." Though he did his best to sound affectionate as he spoke, he couldn't force his face past the slackened state it had adopted for weeks. Luckily, his face was as concealed from her as hers was to him.

They had shared many hugs over the years, through times of happiness, grief, contentment, and release. Each time his body yearned for the contact, and cherished each and every second. Even today his arms desperately wanted to wrap themselves around her and crush her lithe body against his chest, but his brain held the powerful impulse in check with the sobering thought of the reality of the occasion. The thought was strong enough for him to gruffly say, "You're going to ruin your makeup," as he pushed her away firmly.

The admonition coupled with the physical rejection of her hug threw the young woman's emotional equilibrium off balance. As she was forced away from him, her hands shot up to her face to conceal the streaking make-up that was beginning to run down her cheeks. He could only see her eyes with her hands help up like that, but he could tell that she was still smiling when she said, "I'll go take care of this. Thanks for the warning." She escaped quickly, nodding every now and then at people she hadn't yet had the chance to greet. He watched her leave with a growing sense of impending doom.

When he finally began moving again, he barely noticed the looks and whispers he drew from the other guests. Normally the fact that strangers were looking at him, let alone whispering in hushed conversations, would paralyze him with embarrassment, but today he was too numb to be bothered by it.

As he passed a corner of the pavilion, a familiar voice called out, "Two minutes here and you've already sent her running away in tears." A sideways glance confirmed what his ears told him to suspect. Sam stood with her back against the wall, her bare arms crossed together against her chest. She was dressed in a nearly shoulder-less emerald green dress that hugged her torso tightly. There were a few straps covering the pale skin of her shoulders, with many more forming a stitch-like pattern of straps that formed on her mid-back and moved down to a loose, knee-length skirt. It was a standard outfit for her role in the event. Her face was displaying the fierce smile she always used when she was expecting a confrontation.

Freddie halted the smile by throwing a weak smile of his own in her direction and all but pleading, "Let's not fight today, Sam."

Her eyebrow arched as she sized him up. He was wearing a black silk suit with a darkly striped green dress shirt. An oddly patterned maroon tie hung from his neck. Freddie was a skinny, lanky guy naturally, but today he looked emaciated, as though he hadn't touched food in days. The dark bags under his eyes suggested that he hadn't slept in a while, either. There was a sway to his posture and a nervous twitch to his eyes that added weight to the "no sleep" theory. Maintaining her position, she asked, "Why not? You look like you could benefit from blowing off a little steam."

Freddie thought about how he must look at the moment and grimaced. Sam's observations had been dead on. For days, his meals hadn't consisted of anything other than a handful or two of cereal, and he couldn't remember the last time he had experienced a good night's sleep. Still he had promised Carly to be there upon pain of death. He had to be there. "We owe it to her," he said softly, completing his train of thought.

Sam nodded slightly and grunted her agreement. A clutter of motion marked Carly's return to the scene with rapidly touched-up makeup. Sam moved to indicate that Carly was back to Freddie, but found that he had somehow sensed her return and was now facing Carly's direction with his back turned towards her.

The words that eventually floated to her over the slumped shoulder that she found her eyes focused upon were, "It's her wedding day, after all."


	2. This Is How a Heart Breaks

Author's Note: This one's for you, Joey, my precious, lone reviewer. I hope you enjoy it. Oh, and to anyone reading this who is unfamiliar with my writing style, this is more of an average length of chapter for me. And away we go.

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Chapter 2: This Is How a Heart Breaks

They stood locked in that position for a few moments. The sun continued to smile down through a curtain of clouds, and a cool breeze whirled through the area, rearranging both dirt and debris whimsically. Finally, Sam broke the silence by asking enthusiastically, "So, are you going to go make her cry some more?"

Freddie's head turned in Sam's direction long enough to glare at her fiercely before he began walking in a direction that would not cross Carly's path. To his chagrin, he heard Sam pick herself up off of the wall and begin following him. He refused to acknowledge her existence by throwing her another glare, so he concentrated on moving through the bulging crowd of guests.

Eventually Sam tired of the silent treatment, so she closed enough distance for him to hear her over his shoulder. "So, are you going to get hammered now?" she asked suddenly. The sudden tightening of Freddie's shoulders gave away the fact that he had heard her. A small smile tickled the corners of her lips as she continued, "I know they're only serving champagne right now, but we all know you're a lightweight in every sense of the word. You'd probably get drunk off of one or two glasses of the stuff."

Realizing that his cold shoulder treatment wasn't working, he called out, "I'm not getting drunk, Sam."

"Aww, that's a shame," said Sam remorsefully. "I hear that broken hearts are more manageable through a haze of alcohol."

Still keeping his head looking straight, he pointedly questioned, "Shouldn't you be somewhere causing havoc right around now?"

The smile on Sam's face grew slightly as she picked up her pace and moved even closer to Freddie. Again Freddie's nose was assaulted by a sweet scent as Sam's perfume wafted over him. He could feel her breath on his ear as she asked, "Don't you realize? The greatest potential for havoc lies on your slender shoulders."

Deciding to maintain his stoic position, he nevertheless allowed a confused, "Huh?" to escape from his lips.

"Imagine the wedding ceremony. Carly's standing up at the altar with her handsome husband-to-be." Involuntarily, Freddie saw the scene in his mind, but his thoughts focused solely on Carly's image. She looked stunningly beautiful in her immaculately white wedding dress. "The priest asks the standard, 'If anyone objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.'" A cold feeling settled on the bottom of Freddie's stomach as he realized what Sam was getting at. The young woman verbalized his realization by mimicking the voice of a tear-choked, stuffy-nosed nerd as she said, "'I object to this marriage! I have had a futile, one sided crush on the bride for the majority of my life, and if she marries him, I don't know what I'm going to do with myself!'"

It was a sorry excuse for a parody, but the words were true and they stung deeply. When spoken aloud his feelings bordered on the ridiculous, but deep inside his heart they were part of the set of rules that guided his existence. The mixture of shame and pain he felt from Sam's words stopped him dead in his tracks. Eventually the pain blossomed into righteous anger, and with a scowl on his face he whirled around to unleash his fury on the blond devil behind him.

Freddie found himself glaring at an empty space. Immediately after finishing her mockery of his feelings Sam had slithered away into the crowd of guests, leaving the young man with a heart full of rage and nothing to release it on. A quick survey of his surrounding area revealed a solid looking tree a little bit of out of way. His thoughts muddled by rage, he somehow rationalized that the tree had it coming. He felt extremely justified as he attacked it with a solid kick and a steady stream of nonsensical invectives.

The invectives continued for well after the kick. Unfortunately for Freddie's foot his sport of choice was fencing, not martial arts. The pain that shot up through his leg was dizzying in its intensity, forcing him to take an impromptu seat propped up against the tree that he had just "assaulted".

As his foot ached bitterly, he took solace in the fact that in the midst of his pain the blinding haze of anger had subsided. Eventually the pain subsided and Freddie found his eyes wandering over the other guests of the party. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves, as they should be on the happy occasion. The gaze he unleashed on them was both envious and malicious. He envied them for being able to share in Carly's joy, but he spited them for not knowing that what they were experiencing was a compromised version of what Carly had dreamed her wedding would be like.

The guests that stood around the bushes admiring the fresh, red roses didn't know that Carly had wanted gray pearl roses intermixed within the standard reds for a shot of unusual beauty. The other ones who were standing there taking in the grandness of the church had no idea that the church that Carly wanted to be married in was the same dilapidated church that her parents had been married in, and that her brother and herself had been baptized in.

He had not memorized these and many other details out of duty to his best friend, or a remarkable intellect, or even the vain hope that through his unfailing devotion to Carly she would eventually reciprocate his feelings for her and he would get the chance to provide her with the wedding of her dreams. These details remained lodged in his heart simply out of his love and fascination for her. He knew them because he wanted to know everything about her, and he would do anything to make her happy. He wanted, or perhaps he was driven unceasingly, to share in every aspect of and happening in her life. Perhaps this sentiment was why he was there, sitting under a tree, experiencing the cruel bite of soul-burning torture with every passing second.

* * *

Eventually Freddie was awoken from his thoughts by the realization that he was running out of people to watch. As he took a grander scan of the area he found that the majority of the guests were moving in a steady stream towards the large church. "It can't be that time already," moaned Freddie, afraid to glance down at his watch for fear of being right. In spite of his eyes' valiant stand against reality, Freddie's brain forced him to realize that it was indeed time to head into the church.

Even though his body suddenly felt as though it had gained an extra ton of weight, he somehow picked himself up and began shuffling towards the building. His weighted stride was similar in appearance to a man walking towards his execution ground. His head focused on the ground directly in front of him, his shoulders remained slumped, his hands flopped lifelessly at his sides, and his feet seemed to struggle with each step.

Freddie's death march was quickly swallowed up by the crowd of guests. The assimilation was so total that the young man was forced to look up since a downward gaze placed his eyes directly on the gluteus maximus of an older woman in front of him. He was already an infamous enough figure at the wedding; he didn't need the label of pervert slapped on top of it. His roaming eyes eventually focused on the church that he was being herded into.

The church was stereotypically built for the early 1900s, when going to church was still considered the only proper "retirement plan". Its size was massive in scale, capable of housing an entire high school population. A reddish brick foundation stacked itself all the way up to an impeccably white roof. The roof was decorated with a distracting flourish of parapets eventually leading up to a towering steeple which housed an enthusiastically ringing bell. Stained glass windows poked fragile holes in the brick walls, portraying saints colorfully in varying stages of devotion. Two heavy oak doors marked the main entrance into the building, guarded by a grinning priest who was making a point of shaking every available hand.

"He's going to have to tire out soon," remarked a voice to his right. Freddie, getting the joke immediately, turned a smile in the joker's direction. The smile faded quickly as he found himself looking at Sam.

Shaking his head, he asked, "How do you always show up when I least expect you?"

It was with a serious face that Sam laughingly answered, "Years of practice."

There was nothing Freddie could say to that, so he turned his attention back to the world in front of him. After bumping elbows with a middle-aged man that he had never seen before in his life, he took a good look around him and realized that aside from Sam he had never laid eyes on anyone else in the crowd either. His head faced Sam as he asked, "Why are there so many people here again?"

Sam shook her head, her voice taking a familiar condescending tone as she said, "This is what happens when celebrities get married, dork."

"Oh, right," muttered Freddie to himself. He had almost forgotten that there was a groom involved in this whole affair.

The romance of popular news reporter Carly and local hero Matt had been closely followed by the media since its unintentionally televised beginnings. Matt was an ER doctor who had single-handedly charged into a burning building to rescue a child trapped on the upper floors, carried her to safety using a series of fire escape ladders, and resuscitated her using CPR on a sidewalk across from the building. The feat had earned him an interview on the local news with Carly. During the interview, Carly had asked him whether he was going to fulfill his rescue victim's dream of marrying him when she grew older. He had laughingly replied that that would conflict with his own dream of marrying Carly. The blush that formed on her cheeks gave the doctor enough confidence to ask her out to dinner.

Video recordings of the interview grew into viral status thanks to both the sweetness of its content and the strength of the old iCarly fanbase. Soon the couple affectionately titled "Bob" by the media after a brief stint as "Marly" was a mainstay in the Seattle tabloids. It was a romance that lasted through two years of intense scrutiny before Matt finally asked Carly to marry him.

Freddie's musings were interrupted as the priest grabbed his hand and gave it a vigorous shake that transferred to the rest of his body. His thoughts and balance effectively broken, he stumbled into the church, his nose immediately taking in the uniquely musty combination of polished wood, lighted candles, and devout faith.

From behind him, he heard Sam say, "No thanks, padre," as she danced out of his reach. There was no telling what germs he was carrying after shaking hands with a legion of wedding attendees. The priest turned a quizzical stare at the blond woman before shrugging and pouncing on another guest.

While Freddie began taking in his new surroundings Sam gave him a sharp punch on the upper right arm. As he rubbed the newly bruising portion of his skin through his clothing, Sam glided past him calling out, "Off to do bridesmaidy stuff!" He stood in place watching the blond dodge through the crowd like the experienced cutpurse that she was until she hopped a corner and disappeared from his sight.

Distraction removed, Freddie found himself in a relatively small chamber decorated with potted plants and a bulletin board full of posted advertisements and requests. In a corner of the room next to the main entrance a group of three altar servers stood aloof to the proceedings, holding their objects of worship in their off hands as they chatted easily about anything other than church. Posted at the doors leading into the main place of worship were two kids in mini-tuxedos handing out white sheets of paper.

Recognizing one of the kids as Carly's younger cousin, Freddie snuck up to him, trapped him in a headlock, and proceeded to rub the top of his head roughly. In seconds the kid had broken free with a high pitched laugh. Smiling down at the boy, Freddie complimented, "You're getting strong, man."

The kid shook his head vigorously with a mischievous smile. "Sam says you're just weak."

"Yeah, well Sam says a lot of things," muttered Freddie. "Anyway, which side am I supposed to be sitting on?"

"The one on the right," said the cousin dutifully. He pushed a paper into Freddie's hands and indicated Carly's side with a practiced wave of his arm. He had been coached well.

Nodding respectfully to the kid-turned-usher, Freddie moved towards the pews he was supposed to be sitting in. He eventually settled on a relatively abandoned pew close to the center of the church. Guests continued to pour into the church long after he sat down, however, and in minutes Freddie found himself squeezed between two slightly obese persons of middle age. It amused him for a little while to think that combined, their weights would have added up to three healthy adults. His amusement was soon cut short as an uncomfortable body heat and the unmistakable smell of improperly washed ass wafted into him from both sides.

He escaped reality by focusing on the paper that Carly's cousin had handed to him. It was a wedding program which had a picture of the bride and groom standing closely together in a forest setting. Freddie couldn't stop his finger from absentmindedly stroking the beaming image of Carly as he reviewed the rest of the paper. The front of the program outlined all of the religious duties of the attendees, from when to stand and sit to which songs would be sung. On the back of the paper were simple directions to the reception.

Almost as soon as Freddie finished eyeing the directions the groom and his best man stepped out of the back of the church and made their way towards the altar: the signal that the ceremony would soon begin. As most of the eyes turned towards the back of the church in anticipation, Freddie's continued to observe the groom. He was a tall man, at least 6'3", with short, blond hair that was styled towards the front. He had blue eyes, a strong chin, and an athlete's build. His stereotypical good-looks again gave Freddie's heart a tug of despair. Physically he had had no chance of ever competing with him, and when you added in the fact that he was a genuinely nice guy …

His thoughts were disturbed as the two people sandwiching him in began to stand up. Immediately recognizing what this meant, he shot up right after them, his eyes arching towards the back of the church. They quickly found their target: Carly, in her wedding dress complete with a veil, being ushered in by her father.

He was unsurprised by how familiar the scene felt, after all he had dreamt of it many times over the years. The angle was off, however. He should be looking at her from the altar. His gaze shifted back towards the altar, focusing on the groom. At that moment, he hated that man with an irrational passion that most don't have the pleasure or pain of experiencing. Forget his good looks, and his generous heart. He had committed the worst crime imaginable to Freddie. He had utterly stolen someone who had never belonged to him, but who he had desired ever since the first time he laid eyes on her.

As his viewpoint moved back to Carly, he began to remember the first time that he had met her. She had been moving in with Spencer who had already made quite a name for himself in the building as an unpredictable eccentricity. They met as she was searching the hallway for her brother's apartment. Freddie was on his way back from taking out the trash, and noticed a very pretty girl around his age walking around with a confused look on her face. Shyness overtook the boy, and he did his best to avoid eye contact with her as he passed by. Carly would have none of it, though, and captured his heart with a single, innocent move. Purposely stepping in front of him, she forced him to look up into her eyes as she amiably greeted, "Hi, I'm Carly. What's your name?"

Their friendship had survived all ensuing levels of education, from grade school, to high school, and even college. The memories they had shared were widely varied and impossible to count, but there were a few choice ones that held a special place in his heart. It was these that his memory flashed before his eyes as Carly began walking up the isle to the traditional tune of "Here Comes the Bride".

One time she had given him a delighted kiss on the cheek after he had managed to give her a bag that she hadn't let anyone know that she desperately wanted on her birthday because of how much it cost. After a trip to a nearby mall, they had spent silent moments sitting on a sidewalk curb, wondering at the beautiful palette that surrounded the setting sun. Her break-up with her first real boyfriend in high school had left her crying in his shoulder for the better part of an hour while he struggled to get some comforting words past his lips.

These and many more images ran through his mind, as though his love life were flashing before his eyes. And thus although his eyes were paying close attention to the proceedings, his mind refused to acknowledge it as reality. That was, until the portion of the ceremony that Sam had brought his attention to earlier arrived.

The priest turned towards the congregation suddenly, raising his hands palms up towards the heavens as he solemnly stated, "If anyone has any objections to the union between the two young people standing before you, speak now, or forever hold your peace."

A rush of adrenaline poured through Freddie's system, and in moments his heart was beating rapidly and a crimson flush had spread over his skin. The memories again flashed through his mind, each of them an objection his heart was desperately throwing out. He could do it right now, proclaim his love for Carly and have done with it. Have a sense of closure to go to sleep on. For a moment it made startling sense. His throat loosened, as if in preparation for a rousing shout of, "I object!"

His instincts were suddenly reined back in place by the sobering thought that his objection would mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. A sudden declaration of his love would not sway Carly's heart in his direction, but would cause uproar among the crowd. The only outcome he could predict were tainted wedding memories and a future strained friendship with the only woman in the world who had ever captured his heart. And so he swallowed down the cry of despair that was threatening to burst from his core, allowing it to sink to the bottom of his stomach where it could reside with the rest of the thoughts leading up to this event that he had sacrificed in the name of Carly's happiness.

As his eyes returned to the bride he caught sight of Sam, standing second in a line of bridesmaids. She was looking right at him, her head shaking negatively with an emotion that Freddie could not read from this distance. Whether it was in taunt or in sympathy, the young man didn't care. She had probably watched him throughout the entire inner conflict, witnessed his true feelings threatening to burst out, and then saw him abandon them like the coward that he was. Shame forced his eyes down suddenly, painted his face red, and didn't allow him to look back up until that dreaded, fated moment.

With the deliberate pace of a child unwrapping a candy he's about to devour, the groom lifted the veil from Carly's face. A moment was spent as the couple smiled into each other's eyes. And then, just as deliberately, he bent down and pressed his lips against hers.

The ensuing applause was deafening, completely masking the sound of a young man gasping as he lurched forward. Freddie's hands gripped the seat in front of him as though he was hanging on for dear life, and a small burning sensation seemed to be emanating from his eyes. These physical cues passed unnoticed, however, for within the man's heart, the hole that had appeared the moment he had heard news of the wedding had just doubled in size.

The pain, the keen sense of longing and regret, which he had barely managed to contain minutes beforehand increased in magnitude to something that he knew with certainty would never heal or go away. The nightmare that had plagued his days and his nights had come into fruition.

... The love of his life ...

... was now ...

... someone else's wife.

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Author's Note: It's moving along nicely, I'd like to think. The chapter title is probably going to change by the time I'm done here, though. There's a new option opening up as I write this to give this story a Seddie-like aftertaste, but I'm hesitant to take it for fear of how it's going to affect both the overall tone and the length of the story. As it now stands, I'm sticking with my 3-5 chapter prediction. I would also appreciate some feedback. As I mentioned earlier, I'm not familiar with this angsty category and am basically writing this story with my gut as I go along. More than my other stories, your words can affect how the story is written and where it goes from here.


	3. Into The Fire

The thunderous applause was soon joined by wholehearted cheering that chased the couple even as they were stepping into their appropriately decorated getaway vehicle. Rice continued to be hurled at the sleek, silver car as it drove away, trailing along colorful streams of papers and crumpled, aluminum cans tied to strings.

After watching the car disappear down the road, the wedding guests began to move as one mass towards their parked automobiles. The priest watched them go with a broad smile on his face. He had promised the newlyweds that he would appear at the reception, but before that honor he had some church maintenance to take care of. The priest turned suddenly and moved to get started on his chores. After all, he may have been getting up there in years, but he wasn't old enough to not want to go to a party. As he stepped back into the church, the feeling of rightness that existed between the bride and the groom brought a warm feeling into his heart. He sent a silent prayer to God that their marriage would continue as smoothly as their wedding ceremony had gone.

His search of the pews for forgotten belongings and abandoned wedding programs was interrupted as he noticed a young man sitting alone on the right side of the church. As he moved closer, he recognized him as someone he had personally greeted into the church earlier that day: a wedding guest. He should have been one of the people who were rushing to the reception to take part in more wedding memories.

With each step towards the young man, the priest felt an increasing sense of wrongness. The slump to his shoulders and the drooping of his head were not normal signs on a wedding day. When he was finally close enough to see his face, he found a familiar, vacant expression. It was an expression that usually appeared after periods of intense grief, when the heart had undergone so much suffering that the face just turned off. The priest was used to seeing this expression at funerals, or by the deathbed of a loved one. Not at a wedding.

The priest continued to observe the young man for a moment, his right hand reaching up to scratch at his snow white, full beard. Finally, he quietly approached the troubled young man with practiced grace and sat next to him. The young man continued to stare straight ahead, not giving any signs of noticing or acknowledging the priest's presence. They sat in complete silence, until the elder man emitted a loud cough.

Freddie awoke from his daze to find the priest who had nearly shaken his arm off sitting next to him and aiming a warm smile in his direction. It was a disconcerting though welcome change from the silent motion picture that his mind had been repeating on an endless loop. After returning his thoughts to the present, he aimed a wry smile in the older man's direction and asked innocently, "I'm sorry, father. Did you need to close up the church?"

The priest shook his head, his eyes and his smile never leaving Freddie's face. "The house of God is always open to those in need." Freddie's mind slowly digested the priest's answer. Did the priest think he was a vagrant? His face must have betrayed his thought, because the older man clarified, "You looked like you could use someone to talk to."

The priest had the right of the situation, but he wasn't exactly the right quality of person for Freddie to have the conversation with. He was fairly certain he was in direct violation of one of the commandments. Still, Freddie was desperate to get the thoughts outside of his mind where they were ricocheting against each other with dangerous frequency, so he quickly redressed his thoughts in more church-friendly banter. "What should one do when reality is crushing his innermost desire ... maybe even his reason for existence?"

The priest folded his hands in his lap and turned his gaze towards the large, wooden cross that was suspended on the wall behind the altar. He was starting to see where this conversation was heading. The more he thought about it, a young man broken down after a wedding pointed towards a specific situation. After a deep breath, he answered, "I suppose that depends on what that innermost desire is."

Freddie aimed his frown downwards. The priest had effectively maneuvered him into a corner that he could not back out of without revealing more than he intended. It was too late to go back now, though. Keeping his eyes down, he asked, "Father, is it okay if I confess something to you?"

"Of course," responded the priest instantaneously, having anticipated the question. "Would you feel more comfortable if we moved to the booths?"

"No," said Freddie with a shake of his head. "Here's fine. Umm, I kind of forgot the, the confessorial prayer, but it's been maybe 10 years since my last confession."

The older man smiled gently. "You've probably built up quite a store of sins over that period of time."

Freddie shrugged and turned an innocent smile towards the priest. "I'm a pretty straight edge guy, so I'd like to think my slate is pretty clean. There's this big one right now, though, that I would like to get off of my chest." After receiving an encouraging nod from the man next to him, Freddie confessed, "I've broken, probably shattered, one of the commandments."

"And which one is that?" asked the priest, even though he already knew the answer.

The words came out as the priest was thinking them. It was as if Freddie were reading his thoughts aloud. "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife."

The priest took a deep breath, knowing that he was beginning to tread on unsteady ground. Should he attempt to absolve the young man's sin, or should he try to help heal his raw heart? He eventually decided that it would be prudent to get a better hold of the situation, and asked lightly, "Do you covet her, or do you love her?"

There was no hesitation in the voice that answered back with reflexive ease, "I love her." A thick feeling began to rise in the old priest's chest. There was a purity to the young man's words that resonated within the elder, for the man who had devoted his life in the service of a higher power sensed within those words a kindred spirit. Only this young man hadn't lived for divine favor. He had lived for the favor of the girl he had joined to another man in marriage minutes ago.

The priest thought back to the pre-marriage counseling he had gone through with the newly married couple prior to that day. They had seemed like a good match, with each of them genuinely admiring the other. They were a level-headed pair, and he truly believed that if they did not suffer some kind of disaster they were capable of going the distance. Still, the couple had not looked at each other with the flames of passion in their eyes. Not like they were blazing now, in the brown eyes of the young man sitting beside him at the mere mention of the bride.

The bearded man had to fight hard to keep a frustrated groan from escaping his mouth, as he was now more conflicted about what to do than he had been when he asked his question. Did he uphold the sanctity of the marriage he had just presided over, or did he pay homage to one of the purest examples of devotion he had come across in his long life? His gaze drifted away from the pleading eyes of the young man, who seemed to be hoping for some kind of miraculous release from the soul-constricting pain that must be gripping his heart, towards the same large, wooden cross he had been meditating in front of for years. Like it had done for many moments of his life, the familiar symbol sparked a revelation in the priest. He returned his attention back to the young man and admitted, "I don't believe I am the proper person for this confession."

It was difficult not to burst into laughter at the befuddled expression that appeared on the young man's face, but the priest somehow managed to keep only a gentle smile on his face. His left hand reached up to gently pat Freddie's shoulder before he stood up and walked away from him.

The priest was just finishing his check on his second row of pews when he noticed the young man leave his seat and begin to drift towards the church exit. The bearded man gave a small prayer for the young man's health before returning to his task with a pensive expression on his face.

* * *

After a final turn of the steering wheel, Freddie was finally able to align his car parallel to the curbside. He released a cathartic sigh of relief after successfully completing his first parallel parking job in years. After removing his keys from the ignition, he took a good, hard look at the building he had parked a block away from.

It hadn't been difficult for Freddie to find the building where the reception was being held in. Based on the appearance of the church, he knew he just had to look for the most grandiose building. The structure did not disappoint his logical reasoning, rising out of the surrounding buildings like a mighty oak surrounded by shrubs. What would normally be an impressive sight was transformed into an oppressive one. The height, the grandeur, and the solidarity of the building all seemed to symbolize what he was up against.

The young man quickly squelched that thought. He wasn't "up against" anything. A battle wasn't being fought now, or about to begin. If anything, he had already lost the war after a lifetime worth of minor skirmishes. Minor skirmishes was the proper term, because he hadn't really been fighting that hard, had he? He's just sat idly while that old, arm rattling priest offered him the chance to have a final say in the matter; to reveal the core of his heart. Freddie had looked away in shame when he should have looked straight at Carly and spoken up ... no ... objected ... howled! What he should have done then, he settled for doing at that very moment.

The roar began from a position hunched over the steering wheel. The sheer force of the sound straightened his body until his head was cradled in the headrest and his arms were outstretched and straining against the confines of his compact car. Every inch of his body was extended with effort, yet loose with release as they reacted empathetically to the power emanating from his throat; originating from his heart. It was a scream of denial and defiance; pain and anguish; anger and outrage. Every emotion he had bottled up since the wedding had been announced burst free from his body. They flew forth in their new, cacophonous, physical forms, reverberating endlessly through the compact, black car. When the sound began to die away, he took a deep breath and began the process all over again so that all of his frustrations could be given voice.

After it was over he looked up at the car ceiling, entirely drained. He could hear himself breathing heavily to restore the oxygen that he had just expelled from his body. In his moment of physical weakness a thought crept into his mind. He didn't want to follow the crowd of well-dressed, eager attendees who were still streaming into the hotel. He had discovered earlier that standing next to them, his faked happiness and good intentions were revealed for what they truly were. The discrepancies would then proceed to incinerate him from the inside.

The only thing that prevented his hand from reaching up and reigniting his car ignition was a lone image of a possible scenario. In his mind, he could see Carly looking towards his empty, assigned seat with a worried expression on a face that should be beaming with happiness.

As Freddie closed his car door and began shuffling towards the hotel, he marveled over how unbalanced his love for Carly was. He was willing to endure an evening of soul-wracking torture just to keep a frown off of her face. It was her special day, however, and she was the most important person in the world to him. She deserved this, and he wasn't going to be the one to prevent her from having a perfect day.

For the second time, Freddie moved not on his own power, but rather under the momentum of a crowd's movement. It was the ideal mode of transportation considering that each step towards the building refreshed the idea of taking many more rapid ones in the opposite direction. With that option cut off from him by a rather large, dark-haired man behind him, the only thing occupying Freddie's mind were the same pesky thoughts that had been plaguing him for days; an unforgiving amalgamation of regrets, predictions, self-loathing, and pity. He was in the middle of a rather heart-rending recollection when the crowd he had been lagging behind dispersed, revealing the hotel lobby.

The hotel architect hadn't taken many liberties, following what appeared, to Freddie's untrained eye, to be the archetypal lobby for a ritzy hotel. In spite of its cliches, it still managed to impress the young man. Anyone who entered the building was immediately dwarfed by a multi-tiered water fountain that provided a constant, flowing curtain of water for the black, obsidian steps that led up to a marble statue of child-like figure joyfully raising its hands in the air. Curved staircases rose from either side of the fountain, connecting the ground level to an iron railway guarded second floor that overlooked the lobby, including the massive, mahogany front desk that was being manned by a unit of energetic workers dressed in an unassuming, sky and navy blue uniform.

Freddie's observations eventually led him to a black sign with replaceable white letters that announced that Carly's reception was being held in Grand Ballroom B. After a broad scan of the area, he noticed a sign above one of the staircases that read Grand Ballroom B. He gave himself a quick nod of confirmation before he took his first steps towards the stairs. That was when he was again halted by an amused, mocking voice. "You're just full of surprises today, Freddie."

He wasn't the least bit surprised this time to turn towards a nearby reclining chair and find Sam resting languidly with her slumped back propped up against the chocolate brown leather and her arms folded neatly against her stomach. He could tell from her eyes that she was in the mood to pick a fight. Sighing, he tiredly shuffled into the adjoining, identical chair as he questioned, "What do you mean?"

"Only the obvious," let off Sam after he seemed to have settled into his rigidly upright seating position. "You actually showed up for this shindig," she paused for a moment, as though she were organizing the list in her head. "You almost interrupted the wedding ceremony." She had emphasized the word almost and allowed her eyes to drift up towards his. He looked extremely uncomfortable, forcing a grin on the young woman's lips. "You almost had a heart attack." Again with the emphasis and rewarding pained expression. This time she allowed him ample time to recover from the sting before she finished, "And you showed up yet again."

The tone of Sam's words had shifted from mocking to something bordering respect at some point during her list. Freddie found himself alarmed by his unfamiliarity with her tone rather than the context of her words. His confusion held his tongue in check, so he sat staring at Sam as he struggled for an appropriate response.

Sam saved him from his mental stall by asking with a companionable lean forward, "So what's next?"

Freddie swallowed before answering, "I, I'm going to go to Grand Ballroom B."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Well of course you are, but I'm talking about the embarrassing, entertaining stuff."

Freddie turned a blush-colored scowl in the blonde's direction. Sam was leaning forward, the corners of her lips turned upwards underneath laughing, blue eyes. She seemed to be enjoying his misery as usual. Narrowing his eyes, he declared, "I'm not going to do anything to ruin her night, Sam."

The faint echo of a smirk remained on her face even though she recognized the iron determination reinforcing Freddie's voice. Didn't the idiot realize that he had no other choice as far as Carly was concerned? He'd been lost to that girl since before she even knew him, which was in itself an insufferably long period of time. Sam's right elbow found its way to the armrest of her chair, allowing her to rest her tilted head against the palm of her right hand. "You're not even going to desperately declare your love for her one more time?"

"No," answered Freddie immediately, though without the resilience he had displayed earlier. His thoughts danced back and forth in his mind, weakening his resolve. He had wanted to do something like that earlier, but had fought off the urge. What good would it do, anyway? He used to tell her that daily to no avail. Wait, used to? When had he stopped declaring his love at every available opportunity?

"We'll see," taunted Sam as she hopped out of her seat. She was amused to find Freddie glaring up at her. She wondered briefly if he was upset because she seemed to want to put a damper on Carly's "special" day or because she had preempted one of his plans. A staring contest developed after Sam crossed her arms underneath her breasts and smirked haughtily down at the seated young man. Unfortunately for Freddie, it was more difficult to maintain a glare than a smirk. The difficulty combined with Sam's tenacious fighting spirit led to the inevitable conclusion of Freddie averting his eyes to focus on a nearby potted plant.

Freddie was rewarded for his participation in the short-lived contest with a sharp laugh and the sound of Sam's heeled feet sauntering away. His hand reached up to cover his frown. The blonde demon was really laying into him today. It almost felt like they were teenagers again; spending every available moment together for the sake of the show. And, he admitted to himself, to be close to Carly.

But those days had come and gone with an unfair speed. Before he could blink they were heading off to different colleges and only seeing each other during school vacations. Even those meetings were only for brief, treasured moments at a time. Carly and himself had always been either interning or working in their respective fields, and Sam had been keeping busy doing Sam Stuff (it was safer to not know what the consisted of). And then they had graduated and drifted even farther apart, corresponding only through sporadic e-mails: all of which he had back-up copies of on multiple hard drives. He physically shook his head over how stalker-like that last thought had felt. It wasn't as though he re-read the e-mails in his free time. It was just that the unedited pages of text were reminders that he was still in her thoughts. They had given him hope for his plan of becoming a success and using his newfound confidence and wealth to come back home and ask Carly out properly. The last e-mail had sent that dream crashing back down to reality, however, because attached to the e-mail had been a jpeg of her wedding invitation.

He gritted his teeth to ward away the wave of self-pity that was threatening to drown away his logic. Carly was his dream girl with good reason. If Freddie wanted to, he could write an entire book extolling her virtues, and on top of that she was an actual Seattle celebrity. Of course other people would notice her qualities. If anything he should be surprised over how long it had taken for a man of her caliber to appear and swoop her off of her feet. Because, he acknowledged with a darkening mindset, he and Carly weren't on the same level. They never really had been. He had been doomed from that first time they met. From that first moment his heart skipped a beat. This was the universe as it should be: with Carly beyond his reach. But why did it have to hurt so severely?

A burst of raucous laughter flew down from the second floor, freeing Freddie from his paralyzing thoughts. Seizing the opportunity, he immediately stood up and began to straighten out his clothing. He would have plenty of time to bemoan his fate after the wedding was over. He had an important role to play today, one he had been playing for all of his life. That of the supportive best friend.

As he began to move towards the staircase, the implication of his title reopened like an old battle scar. The pain stemmed from the fact that he had always wanted so much more. He hadn't felt like this in a long time, probably because his career had been moving along in the right direction. His secret goal had seemed within reach. But now that that hope had been dashed, the pain resurged with vicious vitality. Not having to deal with it on a daily basis appeared to have weakened his resistance towards it.

It hurt so badly that he had to squelch it with a sudden vow. One that made more sense with each step he took towards the reception.

Tonight would be the last night he played his lifelong role. Afterwards, he would cut off all ties from Carly and allow her to lead the happy life she deserved.

* * *

Author's Note: This took a long time to come out, and I even denied that it ever would happen to a few readers. It looks like I lied, and I apologize for that. My apology has taken the form of this chapter. The main reason that this is happening is that I recently envisioned enough of this story to write it out in a couple of sittings if I'm in the writing mood (It doesn't happen as often as I like, so don't hold your breath for it). Expect at least three more chapters. Also, I have decided that by the end, this story will be Creddie flavored. Seddie shippers have been warned.

Thanks for reading, and see you next time!

Falling Further


	4. The past always seems to catch up

After finding Freddie's name on the guest list, the burly doorman nodded towards the door. Freddie gave the man an acknowledging nod and headed through the tall, ornately decorated double doors. It was an impressively large room, appearing to be capable of holding at least 300 people comfortably: a condition he had become used to over the course of the day. The ceiling was broken into identical panels, each collapsing upwards into a radially filigreed dome from the center of which hung traditionally designed, gold-plated chandeliers. In addition to the chandeliers, there were multiple light sources everywhere; from the lights draped at regular intervals on the walls to the steel-wire, tri-legged candelabras at the center of each dining table. In spite of the light sources, the brightness of the room never rose above a dull simmer wherever one looked. It forced the guests to stand closer than normal to make out the full range of emotions on their conversational partner's face. It also made it very difficult for Freddie to make out where he was supposed to go to next.

The only noticeable person in the dimmed room was a pale, slender brunette in a long red dress complete with matching elbow length gloves swaying rhythmically in front of a microphone stand. Her smooth rendition of "Misty" served as a pleasant backdrop for the guests who were slowly meandering into their seats. Freddie decided to go with the flow, and moved over to a long rectangular table covered from end to end with white, folded cards that displayed each guest's name and their assigned table. Because they were arranged in alphabetical order, it wasn't difficult to find his name towards the beginning of the heap. He managed to tone an outright grin down to a smirk after he picked up the card and discovered the addition of the title "The Dork" in Sam's messy scrawl.

As he approached the table, he realized he had one of the better seats in the house. It was pushed up right next to the vast, centrally located dance floor. A stone's throw away down the wooden planks, opposite the area where the four piece band was stationed was the table of honor, lifted slightly above the ground by a wide, white platform. The long, empty table appeared to be set up to accommodate the bride, groom, bridesmaid, and best man, marking each place set with a ridiculously complicated folded napkin. From the direct center of the table, a conical structure rose towards a tapered tip, around which two splayed figures chased each other around endlessly. Freddie smiled as he recognized evidence of Spencer's craftsmanship.

"Oh, someone else is finally here," announced a voice cheerfully. Freddie's alerted gaze fell back towards his own table. A cute, brunette girl in her early twenties smiled up at him from her seat.

Not used to talking to cute strangers, Freddie felt a blush creeping onto his cheeks. Ignoring the feeling, he abashedly smiled back at her as he sat in the empty chair next to her. "I'm Freddie," he announced in as deep a voice as he could manage.

"I know," revealed the brunette, the smile remaining on her face. "I used to be the biggest fan of iCarly, growing up."

Freddie gave the girl an appraising look. He had met many iCarly fans since the show ended, and they had ranged from casual admirers to hardcore obssessives. While they mostly consisted of the former, something about the way she had announced herself set off an alarm that suggested the latter. After squinting at the girl for a moment, his eyes opened wide in shocked awe. "Wait, you're not Mandy, are you?"

"You remember me!" cheered the girl in a voice that was no longer squeaky, clapping her hands as she chased her words with a delighted laugh.

It was difficult to reconcile his memories of iCarly's self-proclaimed biggest fan with the young woman sitting next to him. Somewhere along the way she had traded in her enormous coke bottle glasses for contacts, allowing him an unobstructed view of her brown eyes and petite, well-proportioned, facial features. Meanwhile her body had lengthened to a slender height of around 5'6 while filling out nicely at the appropriate places. The body hugging, navy blue dress she was wearing seemed to be highlighting those places for him. By all conventional criteria, she was now gorgeous. Freddie felt his blush deepening.

"You grew up nicely," complimented Freddie, then immediately wished he could have said something less creepy.

A faint redness touched Mandy's cheeks through her olive complexion. "I'm not the only one," she answered, looking directly into Freddie's eyes.

Even if it was the Mandy from his memories, this was the best interaction with a good looking woman he'd had in a long time. Eager to keep the conversation moving, he quickly asked, "So what are you up to nowadays?"

Mandy hooked some strands of her fine, straight hair behind her left ear as she leaned towards Freddie. Freddie fought hard to keep his eyes on her face as she said, "I'm working as a producer."

Freddie blinked in surprise. "A technical producer?"

Mandy shook her head. "No, I'll leave that for computer geniuses like you. I'm one of those legwork kinds of producers." Again, Freddie struggled against his eyes as an additional view was suggested. "That's actually how I met Carly again, a few weeks ago."

"Oh, so you don't work with Carly?"

The woman's hands held themselves up in a sign of dismissal. "No, she was interviewing one of the stars of a project of mine. I reintroduced myself after the interview was over. After she got over her initial surprise, we went out to eat lunch at a nearby café." She gave a shrug of her bare shoulders. "Before I knew it, I was invited to the wedding." Her head tilted to the side as she asked, "So how about you?"

"I work for Pear ..." Freddie's answer was cut short by a buzz of commotion coming from the entrance to the ballroom. In walked Carly, arm-in-arm with her new husband. She was still dressed in a simple, flowing white wedding gown. The man's heart again stopped in his chest. Only Carly could make plain, lightly embroidered fabric seem like it was radiating beauty.

The smile disappeared from Mandy's face after she recognized the way Freddie's face had transformed after laying eyes on Carly. Even though he had been displaying signs of interest in her, what she saw displayed on his face at the moment was something more similar to complete submission. So Freddie was still in absolute love with Carly. In a way, it was kind of cute for Freddie to still be heads over heels for his first love, but that didn't really help Mandy's situation. Now that Carly was in the room, the woman had a feeling that his eyes would unerringly return to wherever the newlywed was for the rest of the night.

It was time to move on to someone more available. The brunette touched Freddie lightly on the knee and announced, "I'm going to go get something to drink." There was barely a nod of acknowledgment in her direction. A wry smile took over her lips as Mandy left the table.

With his eyes glued on Carly as she moved towards her seat, Freddie didn't notice Mandy leave.

* * *

Freddie was still looking towards the bridal table when the lights dimmed dramatically, drawing the room's focus towards a pulled-down projection screen in front of where the band was set up to play. A slideshow of the couple's journey to marriage was projected onto the screen while a sappy love song that Freddie had never heard of blared through the room's speaker system. And while all of the eyes in the room seemed to be drawn to the lighted images, Freddie just couldn't seem to take his eyes off of Carly. After the slideshow had gone through a couple of pictures, he wished he could.

With his back to the screen, he had no way of knowing what kind of pictures were showing beyond the crowd's reaction. The "ooh"s and the "ahh"s were squelched however as the newlywed couple took advantage of their relative obscurity. They shared lingering looks and unrestrained smiles. His arm resting on her shoulders. Her hand reaching up to caress his cheek. His hand lifting her chin upwards. Then their lips reaching forward.

He found himself watching the slideshow before he had some kind of heart attack. It was currently showing childhood pictures of the couple. Every time a picture of Matt came up, he would figure out some way to make fun of it. A photo of a half naked 6 year old flexing into a mirror was recognized as the textbook example of narcissism. A young shot of him with his arms around two little girls earned him the title of player.

Freddie kept his comments under his breath until the woman sitting in front of him burst into laughter. After the rest of the table found out what was up, they demanded that he share his thoughts with the rest of them. At first, every comment elicited bursts of laughter. As the pictures continued to come, however, the comments became more sarcastic. A plastic cowboy hat drew a Brokeback Mountain reference. A picture of his 3 year old self wrapped only in a diaper was deemed the headshot of a child porn star.

The man had gotten so into his new game that he didn't realize that the laughter had faded into oblivion. It was Mandy who brought him back from the brink by touching his shoulder lightly. When he turned around, in addition to the worried expression on her face, he found a mixture of worry, pity, and disgust on the faces of the other members of his table. It was only then that Freddie realized the content of what he had been saying for the past few minutes. Oddly, the normally private man felt no shame or remorse for what had left his lips. He was actually experiencing something more similar to pride. Freddie felt as though he had finally stood up to a bully who had been beating on him remorselessly for months. Unfortunately, he knew from personal experience that if the bully was mean enough, they would just use that incident as fuel to increase their assault. He remembered the first time he had stood up to Sam. She had sent him flying to the ground almost immediately afterwards.

After tallying more looks of disgust than anything else on the faces of his table mates, he knew that he was due for another beating backwards into despair. With a sigh, he stood up and said, "I'm sorry about that ... little outburst. Please excuse me."

When he began to turn to walk away, Mandy asked, "Are you okay, Freddie?"

The man gave her a weak smile and assured her, "I'll be fine. I think I just need to get some air." He then completed his turn and walked away from the table, much to the relief of his fellow guests.

Freddie encountered no traffic on his way to the attached outdoor terrace. Almost all of the guests were seated with their eyes glued to the projection screen. He made a point of passively searching for anyone he knew among the guests, but after traversing halfway across the ballroom, he had found no one. Did Carly know all of these people? Well, really know all of these people. She had always wanted a small wedding, shared with only people that she considered important in her life. This had to be the exact opposite of that. There was no way the table filled with overweight, balding men he had just walked past had each played an important role in her life. He should have known at least one of them. And Mandy, who admitted that she had just met Carly again a few weeks ago, had even been invited. This wasn't the kind of wedding that the Carly that he knew wanted. What had forced her to have this gargantuan wedding? Was it her husband's preference, pressure from her considerable celebrity, or ... did he just not know her anymore?

The last thought was a sobering one which he quickly dismissed thanks to the strong belief that Carly wouldn't change so drastically without his noticing and the fact that he was now standing outside of the ballroom. He closed his eyes briefly, concentrating on the refreshing feeling of the evening air. A cool breeze drifted across his face, dragging away with it any lingering feelings of embarrassment he had held for his little display.

When he opened his eyes, he took in an expansive view of downtown Seattle. Having lived in the city for most of his life, it was not necessarily an unfamiliar one. Still, the view he was more accustomed to was from a higher vantage point. When you looked at people from too high up, they tended to look like animated figurines or toys. From his current view of one story above the street, that normal feeling of detachment was replaced by the renewing one of viewing life from a new perspective. It was like the answers were right there, just waiting for him to see them. Now if he could just figure out what question he really needed to ask.

His existential pondering was interrupted by the sounds of the other two people sharing the terrace with him. They were standing a few feet away from each other much closer to the railing than he was, offering him only a view of their backs; one covered entirely by a black, tuxedo coat, and the other barely concealed by a purple, open back dress. There was something familiar about the man that Freddie couldn't put his finger on, mostly because he had his back turned to him. Freddie shrugged it off and went back to watching the city move around him as the man inched his way closer to the woman.

When the man had come within a few feet of the woman, he stumbled towards her, grabbing the railing to prevent himself from crashing into her. It was at this point, when the men looked at the girl coyly and let out in a pseudo-debonair voice, "Why, excuse me. I didn't see you there," that Freddie realized that he was watching none other than Spencer Shay at work. Freddie resisted the immediate urge to call out to his old friend, since based on his knowledge of Spencer's love life; he was in for a show. After a few seconds went by with no response from the woman, Spencer asked nonchalantly, "Did you happen to see that sculpture in front of the bride and groom?"

"That weird helicopter thing?" countered the woman in a flat tone.

"Er, yeah, I guess," sputtered Spencer. Freddie found a spot on the wall behind him and leaned back into it. This was going to be entertaining whichever way this conversation went. By the time Freddie had made himself comfortable, Spencer had recovered and announced, "You know, I made that."

The woman turned her head to ask with a laugh, "Why?" Her profile confirmed that Freddie had never seen her before, and that Spencer had a good eye for beauty.

"Well, it's ... art," answered Spencer matter-of-factly.

The woman turned her head back towards the city street. "It looked more like junk to me."

Spencer had been stunned into shocked silence by this point. Freddie could almost hear the gears in the older man's head grinding, desperate for something to say to salvage this horrible outing.

The woman saved him the trouble of wringing his brain out by asking, "Is that all?" Spencer's words failed him yet again, and he ended up hanging his head in shame as she turned around and walked past Freddie into the ballroom. A faint scent of lavender hung in the air long after she had exited the balcony.

Freddie waited until the woman was well out of earshot before moving up to Spencer and commenting, "That was an epic strikeout, Spencer."

Spencer's expression shifted from accusatory anger to pleasant surprise once he realized it was Freddie standing next to him. He almost didn't recognize his old friend. It was like there was something off about his face. Shrugging off the feeling, Spencer's left hand clamped onto Freddie's shoulder companionably. "So you heard that?" he asked with a pained grimace.

"Yup," answered Freddie with a small nod.

"All of it?" questioned Spencer, his right eyebrow raising high.

The younger man said no words, but his silence answered his question succinctly. An embarrassed smile appeared on Spencer's face, which he quickly turned towards the city sprawling out beneath him. Not wanting the conversation to turn towards his recent failure, he asked lightly, "So, what'cha up to nowadays?"

Freddie gave a large shrug of his shoulders. "Not much, really. Just working."

The word "work" brought a sour expression to Spencer's face. "You should have been an artist, Freddie! It's the best!" Spencer's hands began to gesticulate wildly. "You make your own hours. You work on your own ideas. Oh, and the ladies love artists!"

Freddie nudged Spencer in the ribs with his elbow. "Just like that last woman, huh?"

Spencer's posture dropped slightly, but he still had some energy to his voice when he shot back, "Well, you know you have to swing to hit the home run."

The analogy drew a chuckle from Freddie. Continuing in the same vein, he jested, "It's too bad you struck out this time."

The artist's arms flailed out in Freddie direction. "Alright, alright! Quit rubbing it in!" pleaded Spencer. "I feel like I'm talking to Sam or something." The comment drew a grimace from Freddie. He knew just how painful that could get. While Freddie was being apologetically silent, Spencer asked, "So how about your love life, Mr. Regular Job?"

Freddie's palms reached towards the skies as he admitted, "Its pretty much non-existent."

Spencer threw his arm around Freddie shoulders as he said with a laugh, "I guess I'm not the only one striking out, huh?"

Freddie's thoughts drifted back towards Mandy. It wasn't like he was striking out, per se. "I guess you could say I'm not even playing the game."

"Why not, man?" Spencer threw his arms open wide for dramatic effect, narrowly missing Freddie's face. "You're young, you have your own place, a stable job, and it's a wedding!" After it appeared as though Freddie wasn't going to answer him, Spencer accused, "I know you're not seeing anyone right now. Carly told me."

The young man knew that the conversation was headed in a dangerous direction, so he did his best to avoid it. He kept his mouth closed and allowed his eyes to drift down towards the city where they settled on a young hipster couple practically skipping down the street hand in hand.

The dodge was unsuccessful. Spencer's head tilted in Freddie's direction as he interrogated, "What's the matter? Do you already have your eye on someone?"

He knew he should just make it easier for everyone and lie his ass off. Unfortunately, Spencer was one of his oldest friends, and Freddie found that he just couldn't lie to his face. No matter how hard he wanted to. An ironic smirk found its way onto Freddie's face as he answered flippantly, "I guess you could say that."

Something about Freddie's answer sparked a ridiculous thought in Spencer's mind, and soon the man-boy had fallen into uncontrollable bursts of laughter. In-between gasps of air, he joked, "Back ... in the day ... I would say ... it was ... Carly!" After he had finished laughing and caught his breath, Spencer realized that he hadn't heard a peep out of Freddie. For good measure, he repeated, "Back in the day, I would say it was Carly!" When his uninterrupted joke drew no sound from the man next to him, Spencer's head turned to find Freddie squirming uncomfortably. Fixing a piercing gaze on Freddie's face, the taller man cautiously asked, "Uh, it's not Carly is it?"

Once again, the younger man said no words, but his silence answered his question succinctly.

This time the silence held its ground, lingering over the two men like a thick, green, cloud of noxious fumes. Or so it appeared to Spencer who only then realized the severity of the evening for the man who had only had eyes for his sister for as long as he'd known him. Words of comfort, words of pity, and words of deflection all balled up in his throat: each wanting to burst free, yet unable to penetrate the miasma. His arms, normally so expressive, remained glued to his side, positive that their gestures would be inappropriate at this point in time.

Now Spencer realized what had been off about Freddie's face when he first noticed him. He wasn't displaying signs of pain, but he wasn't displaying signs of much else either. His face seemed almost lifeless, like it was a mask. Every smile or smirk he had displayed during their interaction had appeared briefly, and then disappeared back into the void. And his eyes which normally shined with intelligence appeared dull and uninterested in the world around him. This wasn't Freddie. This was a Freddie doppelganger, sent in to hold his place in the wedding while the real Freddie sat in a corner and bawled his eyes out.

A feeling of sadness washed over Spencer, causing his vision to blur at the edges. The artist realized that if he stayed out here any longer, he would be joining the real Freddie soon. Considering that that would be a disastrous event at his little sister's wedding, he awkwardly stated, "Hey, I'm going to head back inside. I'll ... talk to you later."

A brief nod was the only acknowledgement that Freddie gave. He continued to look out onto the city streets, still searching for the answer to the question that he didn't know he needed to ask.

Spencer took one last look at the hunched over form of his friend before stepping back into the ballroom. How old was he now? Around Carly's age, so that meant in his mid-twenties. He'd been holding onto that flame for over half of his life, and it was still burning as brightly now as it did when they were teenagers. Spencer could barely remember even knowing a girl he liked for that long. That had to be love. No, it was. Anyone who had ever seen Freddie around Carly knew that it was.

Nothing in particular was going on, but the noise level in the room was at an unhealthy decibel level solely from the sheer number of attendees. Spencer could not find an inch of the room that was not occupied by a wedding guest. This was the grandest wedding he had ever attended, probably one of the best Seattle had ever seen. And it was for the joining of Freddie's true love and another man. The poor bastard.

Spencer spotted his sister in the center of the room, laughing lightly at something her newlywed husband had whispered into her ear. A thought brought a rare frown to Spencer's normally jovial face.

He wondered if Carly knew.

* * *

Author's notes: 85% of this chapter has been written for a while now. Unfortunately, I had a lot of trouble closing out this chapter. Everything I wrote between Freddie and Spencer felt unnatural at first. Eventually I just threw the focus on Spencer and it turned out the way I wanted it to. I guess. By the way, anyone doubting if Mandy could grow up cute should look at pictures of the actual actress (Aria Wallace) for proof.

In any case, be prepared for a perspective shift in the next chapter!

Thanks for reading!

Falling Further


	5. Through her eyes

Carly touched Matt's elbow lightly, drawing his attention away from his old friend. "I'm going to grab something to drink, do you want something?"

Pulled away from the story and an old memory, it took a moment for Carly's words to register. Once they did, the groom's eyes widened immediately. "Oh no. Let me get it for you!" He gave his friend an apologetic smile and turned towards the bar.

Again, Carly's hand reached out to touch Matt's arm. "I don't think I'll have much to talk about with your old college roommates, Matt." She gave her newlywed husband a wry grin. "It's really not that far from here."

"Are you sure?" questioned Matt, still looking like he was ready to make a run for the bar.

Carly nodded and then stood on her tiptoes to give him a light kiss on the cheek. "I'll be right back."

She could feel his eyes on her as she left the table, so she put in a little wiggle to her hips before turning around and fixing him with a wink. She laughed out loud as he turned red and tried to focus his attention back on his former roommate.

What followed was an uneventful, yet uncomfortable walk to the bar. Carly could feel eyes digging into her skin from every direction. That didn't bother her too much, though. In addition to being something she had been mentally prepared for given the sheer size of her wedding, she had been a celebrity since becoming a teenager. If she could stomach having the world watch her during the most awkward years of her life, she could withstand this barrage of gazes at her when she was feeling more beautiful than she had ever felt before. No, the real discomfort lay on her feet, or rather in her shoes. The ivory satin heels added about 2 3/4" to her height, and held her feet in place with two asymmetrical, satin uppers studded with glittering rhinestones that beautifully complimented her pale skin. Ruffled white cloth anchored the straps close to the sides of her toes. They were truly beautiful shoes, which meant that they had to be as uncomfortable as possible by necessity. Otherwise women would wear them everywhere.

When she finally arrived at the bar, Carly wished that she had taken Sam's advice and just worn a pair of white sneakers. While she and the rest of her bridal party had gawked at her best friend when she initially suggested it, Carly was finally beginning to see the wisdom of Sam's words. The pain was almost not worth it, especially if no one was looking at her feet. She had started to grumble to herself that people better be looking at her feet when she noticed Mandy standing alone at the bar.

One of Mandy's arms was resting lightly on the bar while her other lightly manipulated her flute of champagne: tracing, shaking, moving. Meanwhile, her eyes flew from person to person, lingering long enough to toss a flirty smile at any handsome men who stopped by. It was a familiar stance to Carly, who had spent most of her adult life without a serious boyfriend. Mandy was on the prowl. But that couldn't be right.

After fighting back her brief moment of confusion, Carly grabbed the attention of her former fan by lightly touching her arm and exclaiming, "Mandy! It's so nice to see you here!"

A grateful smile instantly appeared on Mandy's face as she found herself facing the newlywed bride. "Thanks for inviting me, Carly! It's easily the most beautiful wedding I've ever attended."

A lot of money had gone into validating those words. Carly smiled graciously in response to the compliment. "So I bet Freddie was as surprised to see you as I was!"

Mandy blinked in surprise at the sudden conversational shift. "Ah, yeah. I guess he was." Her eyes drifted to her half-imbibed cocktail. A wistful smile formed on her wild rose lips as she admitted, "I really caught him off-guard. You should have seen how red he was."

The bride's expression brightened suddenly. "So then you two hit it off, right?"

A puzzled expression was Mandy's first answer, followed by a conclusive, "Huh?"

"You and Freddie. You hit it off?" The volume of Carly's words died away with her confidence in her assumption.

"I don't think I'm his type."

"Really? I thought you two were a good match."

"I think Freddie's actually into," Mandy's eyes flicked upwards, "darker brunettes."

Carly right eyebrow rose high. "Uh, okay."

As the darker brunette struggled with Mandy's cryptic statement, the producer recognized no flash of recognition or apology on Carly's face. That meant that, as incredible as it sounded, Carly had no idea about Freddie's feelings for her. It was an emotional land mine of epic proportions that Mandy wanted to have absolutely no part in. Mandy's right hand slowly reached for her drink. "Don't worry about me, Carly. You've provided me with plenty of good looking guys. I won't be alone for long." Cocktail in hand, she raised it in Carly's direction then moved towards a tall, dark stranger who had been watching her since before Carly arrived.

The dazzling smile Mandy had shared with her before walking away lent credence to her last statement. How had Freddie passed her up? The girl was so gorgeous that Carly was tempted to hit on her. After eating lunch with her during their first meeting in who knows how many years, Carly recognized that Mandy had matured into the type of girl worthy of a good guy like Freddie. She'd immediately invited her to the wedding and shifted around the seating arrangements so that they would be seated next to each other and sharing the table with older, attached couples. A young, beautiful, single girl at a wedding; it was like Carly was serving her up to Freddie on a silver platter.

"What will you be having, miss?" called a voice from over Carly's shoulder.

Carly fixed a smile on the bartender before answering, "I'll have a little white wine, please."

As the bartender reached for a snifter to fill with wine, Carly's thoughts of Freddie drew her eyes towards his seat; which was currently empty. Her eyebrows furrowed together. Where had he gone off to? The bride's eyes drifted towards the center of the dance floor where a makeshift clump of people had gathered together. Technically he could be in the middle of that crowd mingling, but Carly spared herself the trouble of scanning through their faces. Freddie wasn't exactly the mingling type.

Even when they were kids, Freddie would only venture into a crowd if she was somewhere inside of it. Carly grinned with the realization that most of Freddie's social interactions when they were younger were thinly veiled attempts to be close to her. How different would he be if they hadn't met? As she began to imagine scenarios of Freddie sitting alone at a computer, desperately hoping his mother wouldn't come in to bother him, Carly realized that she hadn't really asked a fair question. After all, where would she be if she hadn't met Freddie?

Sure, people had always told her that she was pretty, but she hadn't really come into her own until iCarly. The show had raised her out of the obscurity of the normal high school crowd. She wasn't just an average teenage girl. She was the namesake of one of the most popular web shows on the planet. Her newfound, undeniable popularity produced a self-confident aura within her that hadn't existed beforehand. She could say with absolute certainty that without it, she wouldn't be where she was today. And she could say the same thing about Freddie, because iCarly wouldn't have been the hit that it was without his expertise. Or, she realized with a soft smile, his absolute belief in her.

Carly turned around to find her drink waiting for her and the mildly attractive bartender attending to someone at the opposite end of the bar. She must have drifted off for a while. After fumbling around for a purse she didn't have, Carly sheepishly realized that she didn't have any money on her to tip with. Left with no other option, her eyes darted back and forth furtively as she discretely grabbed the drink and began to wander off.

The mischievous nature of her action made Carly more intensely aware of the eyes she had been easily shrugging off all day. She shuddered as she made eye contact with a nice looking, silver-haired woman who was nevertheless a complete stranger. The shudder was almost immediately suppressed by the calming thought that she was the bride of the wedding. She was supposed to naturally attract the attention of everyone around her. And she had only known her husband Matt for two years. Of course there were going to be strangers.

A nagging feeling forced her to carefully examine the table to her left, and then more quickly and slightly more desperately the one to her right. She didn't recognize a single face at either of the tables. Two, large, complete tables completely occupied by total strangers.

All of her life, she'd only wanted a small wedding. If there were strangers, it would only be a few of her husband's friends who lived too far away for her to have had the chance to meet beforehand. This was leagues beyond that. How had it come to this? Ever since she was a little girl, Carly had only wanted to share her special day with a few close, personal friends.

She had divulged her childhood dream to Matt soon after their engagement. He had smiled that dazzling smile of his and promised like the perfect man that he was that he would take care of everything. Normally she wouldn't have accepted his offer, but she was in the middle of transitioning from correspondent to anchorwoman. Plus, it was such a novel and luxurious idea to have her husband take care of all of the details of the wedding.

She trusted him with the sort of blind devotion reserved for those still basking in the glow of fresh love. Far too deeply into the planning of the wedding that Carly had run into the priest from her old church and discovered to her horror that Matt hadn't contacted him at all. This huge shock was quickly compounded with miniature aftershocks as she used her reporter wiles to sniff out the details of the wedding and find almost all of them at odds with her dream ceremony.

The fiery confrontation the evening after her meeting with the priest had almost sent their wedding plans to a crashing halt. Matt's claim that he was putting something together that was grander, more magnificent, and more worthy of her fell on deaf ears. After all, she was the bride. What she wanted should count for everything.

Or so Carly yelled over her shoulder as she stormed out of his house. As the week went on and the break-up loomed heavily in the horizon, everyone she complained to seemed to side with Matt. The invariable argument was that he wasn't doing anything wrong. So what if he wanted to spend more money on their wedding? That was a good thing. Carly should marry him before some other woman took advantage of her ridiculous complaint and snatched him away. Some of her friends even offered to be that other woman.

Only two people had sided with her: her two, longtime, best friends. Their agreements were suspect, however. Sam had always seemed to have something against Matt, and Freddie would even take Carly's side if she decided that the sun was normally purple. Eventually Carly had caved into the steadily increasing pressure from her friends, fans, and fiancé. Well, actually he was now her husband.

He was a man who had forcefully spent a tremendous amount of money on the event. Matt was a surgeon, but he wasn't making enough to cover an event of this magnitude easily. Initial attempts by her father and herself to help shoulder the cost had been shot down with the assurance that all of the excess was his idea and therefore his responsibility to take care of. Freddie would eventually point out to Carly that when they were married, Carly would be sharing that burden anyway. Armed with that argument, Carly again confronted Matt and was finally let in on the secret that the local tabloid had offered to pay for the wedding in exchange for exclusive rights to any images taken at the wedding.

He hadn't told her about the arrangement at first because he was afraid that it would start a fight. It turned out his fear wasn't off the mark, though for a different reason. Carly didn't really care about the deal. She actually thought it was a financially sound idea. She was upset that he had again hid something from her. The issue was eventually smoothed out with a solemn vow that he would never keep anything from her again.

And so the rest of the wedding preparations had gone off without a hitch. And as a result, months later here she was the bride of a wedding the likes of which she could have never dreamed of … and didn't really want.

She wasn't suffering under a panic attack, but any sense of levity she had been feeling left her body with a last, deep exhalation. She looked left then right, seeing everything but recognizing nothing. Just when she was about to let a sad feeling enter her mind, she felt a strong pair of slender hands wrap around her shoulders. Green nail polish over pale skin assured her that it was Sam who was pushing her body forward.

Carly closed her eyes as she sank submissively into the strong, slender hands of her best friend. As her feet moved past the tables filled with people that she didn't know at a pace and path set by Sam, her ears focused on the sound of the band as it drifted above the constant drone of the wedding guests. The song was another jazz standard, "Lullaby of Birdland" if Carly's memories of her father's records weren't off. As the singer's sultry voice evoked the image of two turtledoves the music's volume was blown away by a stiff, cool breeze.

The bride slowly opened her eyes to find herself on a balcony overlooking a busy downtown Seattle sidewalk.

* * *

At some point, Freddie had retreated from the balcony's handrail. The answer he had been searching for in the crowd had hidden itself behind the form of one too many happy couples. Rather than irradiate the oblivious lovebirds with waves of jealousy and ill will, he had taken a seat on the floor of the balcony against the peach colored hotel wall. With his arms wrapped around his bent knees, Freddie had been listening to the sound of breeze crashing against his ears when his two friends burst into his reverie.

His recognition of the situation was instantaneous. He could easily pick Carly's form out of the middle of a tightly packed group. When you gave her an additional distinguishing flag, like say a wedding dress, figuring out who she was from behind wasn't much of a challenge. He was in the process of deciding whether to speak up or sneak away when Sam's face turned in his direction to give him a sharp look.

After a couple of deep breaths, Carly moved towards the edge of the balcony. "Thanks, Sam. I really needed a break."

"You know me, Carls," answered Sam, her face still turned towards Freddie. "I'm a master of knowing when things are going to break."

The mocking words and matching smile drove Freddie to his feet. While he dusted his backside with his hands, he announced unenthusiastically, "Hey guys."

Recognizing the voice, Carly quickly spun on her heels. "Freddie! I was wondering where you ran off to!"

While Freddie braced himself to receive his second tackle-hug for the day, Sam stepped directly into his field of vision. As Carly crashed into him, the blonde woman drew his eyes towards her lips and its steady, knowing smile. After narrowing his eyes at the persistent moment destroyer, he wrapped his arms around Carly lightly for a brief, polite period of time. His hands slid over smooth silk covering a soft, firm, warm body. His reluctance to let her go was easily overruled by Sam's widening, predatory grin and the absolute knowledge that the longer he held on to Carly, the harder it would be to let her go.

After disengaging from each other, they stood a couple of feet apart. Sam quickly stepped in, completing the familiar triangle of their youth. "Just like old times," commented Sam as they all exchanged nostalgic smiles.

"Except we're all grown up," commented Carly.

"And you're married," added Freddie in what would have sounded like a normal tone to anyone except for those that knew him best, two of which he was speaking to.

"Well if any of us was going to be married, it was Carly," shot Sam quickly, not giving the brunette enough time to look questioningly at Freddie. "I think it's a failed, broken system and Freddie over here never really did have much luck with the ladies."

"Hey, wait a minute …" started Freddie.

Carly interrupted Freddie's repartee by speaking up, "That's not true, Sam. I actually invited someone to the wedding because they were interested in Freddie!"

"Oh?" Sam took an exaggerated peek into the ballroom. "Who am I looking for? Ugly, fat, or old?"

"Sam!" chastised Carly as she gave her friend a playful slap on the arm.

Freddie's eyes remained glued on Carly. "So you invited Mandy here just for me?"

Carly aimed a grin in his direction. "Well, I figured with the size of the wedding, one more wouldn't hurt."

"Wait, wait," interrupted Sam, her right hand waving back and forth. "Mandy, 'I'm your biggest fan' Mandy?" Carly's nod sent the blonde woman into a set of belly laughs. She reeled backwards, grabbing the handrail for support as laughter wracked her body.

Carly was preparing to explain to Sam how beautiful Mandy had become when she noticed the puzzled expression on Freddie's face. "Are you okay?" Freddie looked away as soon as she called out to him; a sure sign that something was on his mind that he didn't want to share.

It was a sign that Sam recognized as well. Her laughter subsided into a broad smile as she maneuvered behind her brunette friend. Sam's face hovered over Carly's left shoulder as she parroted, "Yeah, what's wrong, Freddie?"

His normal response would be to shrug it off as nothing, but factors were beginning to stack on top of each other: he hadn't slept in days, he didn't want to be there, he had felt such a release trashing Matt's pictures, Sam was flashing that annoying smirk of hers, and, most importantly, Carly was asking him directly. So rather than shrug and shift the conversation to a new topic he looked directly at Carly and asked, "You barely know her, yet you invited her to your wedding. It's … are you happy with this wedding, Carly?"

A pregnant pause developed while Carly gathered her instantly shattered thoughts and Sam reclaimed her original position in the triangle to get a clear view of Carly's face. Eventually, Carly gave the automatic response she had developed over the months. "Any woman would be ecstatic to have a wedding like this."

"Not you," said Freddie with a speed and fervency that surprised even him. The words tumbled out of his mouth in a steady stream and a warm tone that suggested he was recalling a fond memory. "You wanted to be married in that old church with the broken steeple that your parents were married in because their marriage, though unfortunately short, was the happiest, most love filled example you've ever seen. And you wanted a small guest list filled with only your closest friends so that we could all fit comfortably in that old, small church, and so that you could spend time really talking to and making memories with each and every guest. You wanted to hold a Battle of the Bands to find a local garage band …"

The torrent of words was interrupted by Sam placing her hand on his arm. When his eyes shifted to her, she said softly, "That's enough, stupid." She then brought his attention back towards Carly with a nod of her head.

The newlywed bride wasn't crying, though there was a slight shimmering to her brown eyes in the waning light of dusk that suggested that that condition might be looming the horizon. The watery orbs looked directly into his eyes as she limply asked, "How … why did you remember all of that?"

The man who had spent most of his life watching her recognized that she had retreated into her thoughts. Anything she said between now and when she had recovered would be a superficial, reflexive response. Freddie stepped backwards, only then realizing that in the heat of the moment he had broken his vow of not ruining Carly's special day in any way. Since he had no way of turning back time and taking back his outburst he stood wide-eyed as he struggled for a way to bring her spirits back up.

He ran out of time long before he could come up with a solution. Carly's young cousin, the same one who had served as an usher during the ceremony, burst into the balcony. After a yelp of excitement he grabbed Carly's hand and started dragging her back into the building.

"Hey, squirt!" shouted Sam. "What are you doing?"

"Matt promised me five bucks if I could find Carly for him!" yelled the boy as he disappeared through the opened balcony doors, the still stunned bride offering no resistance as she was led back into the heart of the reception.

Carly gradually recovered as her cousin pulled her farther into the room. Her eyes became acclimated to the bright lighting which gave the crowded room enough visibility to see each other. She passed table after table of strangers who all smiled as she passed and wished her well. Her ears became accustomed to their buzzing interactions with each other and the band playing music that appealed to her father. By the time she could make out the tall form of Matt sharing a story with a captivated table audience, Carly had rediscovered the truth of Freddie's words. It was something she had locked deep inside of herself as the weeks progressed to help keep her sanity. She wasn't happy with this wedding. This wasn't the type of wedding she wanted. It was grandiose, and gaudy, and so superficial. This was the type of wedding she hated.

"I got her!" exclaimed the mini-usher as he released Carly's hand and rushed up to Matt.

"Nice job, kid." A folded five dollar bill was exchanged in a clandestine handshake before the groom glided up to and wrapped his arm around his wife's waist. "Come on, Carly. I want you to meet the ER nurses. A few of them are huge fans of yours."

"Oh, sure," answered Carly automatically, her tone wooden and lifeless.

The handsome doctor led her towards a nearby table, his grin wide and oblivious.

* * *

"And it was just getting good," sighed Sam as the pair disappeared through the doorway. After shaking her head, the blond woman shot a sideways glance at Freddie. "Saved by the bell, huh?"

Freddie's eyes shifted off to the side where Sam was conveniently not standing, obscuring most of his face in the shadows of the waning sun.

Sam's appraisal of Freddie's current mental state was that it was close to how he had appeared when she had first seen him: broken and lifeless. The fact that he was refusing her company was a good sign, however. There was still a spark of something hiding in him, and she couldn't wait for him to light that fire. With a shrug of her bare shoulders, Sam sauntered back towards the ballroom. Before she disappeared through the arching doorway, she called out, "Don't worry, Fredward. You'll tell her next time."

Left alone on the shadow shrouded balcony, Freddy began to worry.

He had a feeling he just might.

* * *

Author's notes: Well there's the perspective shift. I added Carly's thoughts to expand on the second (arguably the first) disruptive element to the wedding, which I alluded to in previous chapters but I felt was buried too deeply beneath Freddie's anguish.

In my head, I'm currently seeing at least three more chapters. The overall plot is pretty much figured out, but finding time to write has become difficult for me. Thanks for reading, and I'll do my best not to keep you waiting too long for the next chapter.

Falling Further


	6. In search of something to do

Though he appreciated the seclusion of the balcony, the comfort level of the area had been ruined by the memory of his recent lapse in judgment. After a final, forlorn stare at the doorway his friends had just passed through, Freddie trudged in after them. Once he was back inside, he felt as if the room started to close in on him. The ceiling felt lower, the walls closer, and the people crushing him between their smiles and laughs and touches.

The constricted man automatically retreated to the only place in the room where he technically belonged: his assigned seat. His hope of finding a friendly face was dashed as he approached the table and found Mandy long gone. Although he sighed inwardly, he sat down with a pleasant, open expression on his face.

As time went on his demeanor gradually degraded into a blank stare towards a napkin that he repeatedly folded and unfolded. Carly's good intentions towards his seating arrangement had backfired. In addition to not hitting on singles, the older, established couples Freddie was sitting with were well versed in isolating themselves from the rest of the world. His attempts to join or start conversations were shot down by the people who had witnessed his true feelings towards the groom. It wasn't that they had yelled at him or acted hostile. As a matter of fact, he would have preferred it that way. Instead, their open conversations had simply died as soon as he found entry, and his questions and observations were either answered succinctly or entirely ignored.

Freddie could feel their sighs of relief in the pit of his stomach as he finally stood up and moved away from the table. As he moved further away, he heard the dead table erupt into boisterous, lively conversation. He did his best to pretend he hadn't heard them as he walked onto the wood paneled dance floor. His path took a sharp turn to the left, away from the middle of the floor where couples were swaying in time with the slow rhythm of the song.

A short walk brought him towards the band. They were playing another jazz song, the title of which he wasn't sure of and didn't really care about. Actively listening to the band with his ears and his eyes thankfully provided him with something to do. He would have felt awkward standing in front of them if there weren't a few other people standing there with him. There were three other people standing there besides him, two of which were already engaged in conversation. The third was an average looking brunette in a long, dark purple dress that swayed with her from side to side.

After a couple of songs which he had never heard before, Freddie had worked up the nerve to engage his neighbor in conversation. He sidled up to her and asked loudly enough to be heard over the music, "Hey, what's the title of this song?"

The purple dressed woman turned towards him and fixed him with the iciest stare of the night. "I'm trying to listen to the music," she hissed in a low voice that still managed to cut across the floor and into him.

Freddie tried to maintain his position after his harsh rejection, but every now and then the girl would turn and glare at him as a preventative measure. As he slipped away without a word, he wistfully wished that he could see her face when she found herself glaring at an empty space. A shadow of a smile graced his lips as he realized that Sam must have been very familiar with that feeling.

After wandering aimlessly from corner to corner of the room, he ended up in the last place anyone, except for maybe Sam, would have expected him to be: the bar.

The bartender approached him shortly after his arrival and asked amiably, "What will you be drinking, sir?"

"Uh … just a coke please," he answered with an embarrassed grin.

The bartender nodded and aimed a nozzle at an empty glass until it was filled with the dark brown beverage. He then placed the drink in front of Freddie and hovered over him generally, as though he were waiting for something. Freddie eventually managed to ward him away by placing a bill in the tip container, leaving him to sit alone and stare quietly into his soda.

While he watched the carbonic bubbles escape their liquid prison, Freddie realized that according to tradition, he had ended up exactly where he was supposed to. He was the old, broken man haunting the bar while he drowned his troubles in his drink. As the gas continued to fizzle, he figured that it would take a ridiculous amount of soda to achieve something like that. Still, he had nothing better to do.

On his third glass of soda, and second time reassuring the bartender that he didn't want something stronger than a soft drink, Freddie noticed Mandy walking up to the opposite end of the bar. She had managed to attract a minor swarm of men by that point, each of them obviously competing for her attention. He could have been one of those guys. Hell, he could have preempted all of those guys if he had just played his cards right at the table. But he hadn't been able to then and would never be able to because in this life, he had met Carly.

In spite of that, he felt no regrets for having given Carly his heart so completely and at such an early age. If she had never moved into the apartment across from his mother all of those years ago, he might have been happier at that point in time but he would be nowhere as complete, as much, or as good of a man or a person. There were things Freddie had done in the name of love that would have been unthinkable for him otherwise. To stay by Carly's side, Freddie had explored and interacted with parts of the world that he never would have without her influence. By just saying his name she could set his heart racing faster than any drug known to man. With her, he'd experienced unique, astounding levels of wonder, pain, triumph, and despair.

Could he have lived a life without Carly? Without question. Would it have been half as fulfilling? He doubted it highly. But then, would he have really cared? "Probably not," he muttered under his breath as Mandy set one of her suitor's hearts ablaze with a targeted smile. That last question didn't matter in any case because he cared now. As beautiful as Mandy had become, she couldn't move his heart with that dazzling smile because she wasn't Carly.

Freddie smiled stupidly into his drink as a thought struck him. The reason he was suffering so much was because he was broken in two complementary ways. First, only one woman in his entire life had ever mattered to him: Carly. Secondly, again unlike most men on the planet, he didn't mind that fact at all. While he was wondering if his affliction was the same experienced by prisoners suffering from Stockholm syndrome, a hand wrestled his drink from his hands.

Due to the rhythm of the day, he knew it was Sam long before she said smugly, "You finally took my advice, huh? Cheers." Freddie turned towards his blond friend just in time to watch her take a long, apparently full, pull of the drink. The empty glass fell down onto the counter with a dull clink as Sam's eyes shifted to him. "What was that, a rum and coke?"

"Minus the rum," answered Freddie.

"God, you're so boring," complained Sam exasperatedly as she took a seat on the stool next to him. Freddie passively observed as she set up her position. Her bare forearms landed on the mahogany bar, giving her a foundation to lean on as she shifted forward to wave the bartender over.

The bartender quickly moved towards her. "And what can I get for you, miss?" he asked in a tone that Freddie noticed was much warmer and accommodating than the one he had used with him.

Sam pushed Freddie's empty glass forward. "Let's have a refill of this, but be a good boy and add the rum this time. Oh, and double it please."

The bartender shared a grin with Sam before placing another empty glass on the counter and reaching for a bottle behind him. Brandishing the bottle in his right hand and the soda nozzle in his left, he performed a flourishing move that involved flipping the bottle in the air. After he was finished, Sam grabbed one of the drinks off of the counter and gave Freddie the universal signal by nudging his upper arm with her elbow. Freddie responded by performing a show of his own, brandishing his wallet until a crisp, five dollar bill had teleported from his wallet into the crystalline tip jar.

After smiling gratefully at the bartender, Sam placed her glass in front of him. "Here, drink."

Freddie pushed the drink back in her direction. "No thanks."

The drink was again moved in front of Freddie. "You say that like I was giving you a choice."

"I'm not going to start drinking, Sam," he announced, his eyes falling down towards the beverage. "I don't want to be that guy."

Sam's elbow landed on the counter as she asked pointedly, "That guy?"

"You know," he said, waving his hand vaguely in the air, "the one haunting the bar plagued by the demons of his past."

Sam placed her hand on Freddie's shoulder to give him a slight, reassuring shake. "You're already that guy, Freddie."

The man haunting the bar stared at Sam. He wanted to escape, but he knew from personal experience that he had nowhere in the room left to go.

Sam's lips took a sardonic twist. "You're not going to run away?"

Freddie's own lips formed a frown. "I have nowhere left to run to." His eyes shifted towards hers. "Besides, you're the only one here I can talk to."

Very slowly, dragging out each syllable, Sam said, "Pathetic."

The man's shoulders shrugged deeply. "It seems to be the theme of the day for me."

Sam's head tilted slightly to the right. "You know what will make it better?"

One of Freddie's eyebrows rose upwards. "What?"

"Drink this," commanded Sam again, pulling the drink closer to his body.

Freddie squinted towards the blond. "What's with you today? I don't want to get drunk, Sam."

A loud sigh erupted from Sam. After rolling her eyes upwards, she leaned towards him and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Look, I'll tell you a secret about Carly and Matt that only I seem to know. But only if you drink it."

"Huh?" asked Freddie defensively as he wrapped his mind around the offer.

"You'll like it. I promise," assured Sam with a wink.

Freddie looked around more for reassurance than anything else. This situation didn't quite feel real. Sam seemed to be acting almost normally towards him. His initial instinct was to cut and run, but his curiosity had been sufficiently piqued. And, probably most importantly, he had nothing better to do. With a shrug, he picked up the glass and took a long, deep drink. After placing the glass back on the counter, he asked in a matching whisper, "So what's the secret?"

Sam shook her head, pointing back towards the rum and coke. "Finish the drink, first."

After again raising an eyebrow in Sam's direction, he picked the glass back up and finished it off. The speed with which he drank the alcohol caused the drink to affect him more than it would have normally. He was already beginning to feel lightheaded.

Sam gave him a hard look, as though she were searching for something. After a moment, she leaned in even closer and whispered, "Matt doesn't really love Carly, and I suspect the lack of feeling is mutual."

These were words he wanted to hear, and they sent his mind and his heart racing in spite of the newfound sluggishness of his body. Still, he managed to remain doubtful due to the source of the information. "You're playing with me," he accused.

"Usually, but not this time," said Sam, her tone playful as she retreated deeper into her seat. "Look, to Matt, Carly is just another piece in his perfect life."

"What do you mean?" asked Freddie, his body leaning forward as he followed after her.

Sam held out her hand and began to count on her fingers. "He's good looking. Good at sports. Made good grades. Became a successful doctor. " Her hands spread out wide. "Now he's just taking the next step."

Freddie quickly caught up to Sam's train of thought. "The trophy wife?"

The woman nodded quickly. "Exactly. Carly's perfect for that role. She's a beautiful, world famous celebrity. Just look at this wedding if you need proof. " Sam's arm made an exaggerated wave towards the rest of the room. "This monstrosity isn't based on love or affection. It's designed to show off."

As a countering thought flew into his head, Freddie shook it vigorously. "Carly wouldn't marry someone she doesn't love."

Sam sighed dramatically, her head shaking as though he were missing something obvious. "We're in our late twenties, Freddie."

Freddie's eyebrow furrowed in confusion. "So?"

Sam's smirk came back full force as she answered, "You're underestimating the power of society's biological clock."

The argument appeared sound and was exactly the type of thing he wanted to hear, but he still couldn't get past its source. "Wha … why?"

"Why what?" she parroted, her eyes narrowing as she looked him over.

"Why …" Freddie began slowly, suddenly having extreme difficulty focusing his thoughts. "Why?" He never had the chance to finish the thought or the sentence, as he suddenly fell towards Sam.

The blond woman easily caught him in her already outstretched arms. "Why am I telling you this? Why am I talking to you?" She leaned in closer, her lips hovering over his ear. "Why did I slip you the sedative?"

Freddie's eyes widened in response to Sam's words, but control of his body had already slipped too far out of his control for him to do anything but mumble into his friend's shoulder as she stood up and prepared to drag him away from the bar. Before he slipped into unconsciousness, the last thing he thought he heard was Sam's voice, softer than he had ever heard it before. "Because you're probably her last hope, dork."

* * *

It wasn't too difficult to drag the half-conscious Freddie outside of the ballroom. He had been on the "I don't want to live anymore" diet for a few months now, after all. If anything the action was awkward. First off was the fact that he was taller than her, and therefore difficult to maneuver. Secondly, she hadn't yet had the chance to teach the wedding guests not to watch her while she was doing sketchy stuff. In spite of her hindrances, Sam made it out of the ballroom and into a closing elevator without being stopped once.

The elevator ride was shared with an elderly couple. One of whom, she couldn't figure out if it was the guy or the girl because old people all looked the same to her, even pressed eleven for her. While the mood on the way up started out nicely enough, it took a nose dive a minute into the ride when the shorter old person joked, "It looks like your boyfriend had a little too much to drink."

Annoyed deeply by the implication that she was romantically linked to Freddie, Sam decided to take it out on him. She grinned ruefully at the two of them as she lied, "Well, he sure does love the sauce."

The taller old person clucked their tongue. "You shouldn't let him drink this much! You want him to live a long time, don't you?"

"I wouldn't go that far," muttered Sam under her breath.

"What was that, dear?" asked the taller old thing.

The shorter one squeaked up after him, "You'll have to speak up, dear. We can't hear too well nowadays."

"I don't mind when he drinks this much," admitted Sam in a tone that was both loud and bright. She preempted anything else they were going to say by announcing, "When he's like this, he can't beat me."

It wasn't quite the truth, but it wasn't a lie either. It's quite difficult to beat someone in your sleep. After saying it, the evil looks the kindly couple shot at Freddie brought a warm feeling to Sam's heart. No other words were exchanged until Sam was exiting the elevator.

One of them suddenly called out, "You shouldn't stay with someone who beats you."

"I know," said Sam with an ironic smile on her face. "I still can't figure out why he still talks to me. He's probably a masochist." She watched the confused couple with a smirk on her face until the elevator doors closed on them. A relatively brief walk from the elevators, brought her to her final destination: the fourth door on the left, down the left corridor. After shifting Freddie's weight higher on her shoulder, her arms wrapped around him as she rummaged through her purse for the key to the room.

An awkward dance ensued as Sam maneuvered Freddie's body to free up her arm, but the door unlocked without incident. The blond woman quickly burst into the room after kicking the door open. She stepped gingerly around the discarded piles of women's clothing, but as soon as she was within range of the bed she hurled Freddie's body on top of the sheets. Freed of her burden, the blond woman paced around the room shaking her arms loose. Her action was not because her arms ached in any way, but rather because she needed to psyche herself up to do what was coming next.

After taking a step towards the bed, Sam turned around and gazed suspiciously at the door. There were at least five other girls with a key to this "changing" room, and she didn't want any one of them to walk in on her and Freddie. Because of this, she spent a handful of minutes building a physical barricade of desks and chairs against the door.

Once she was satisfied that none of the "twigs for arms" girls of the bridal party would be able to budge the door, Sam walked calmly back towards the bed. She paused briefly halfway towards her target to unfasten and kick off her heels. Upon reaching the mattress, Sam bent over to roll Freddie onto his back before crawling into the bed after him.

Her long, blond curls flowed down onto Freddie's chest, obscuring her face as her slender, dexterous fingers began to quickly unbutton his shirt.

* * *

Author's Note: If you're one of the readers who has been with me from the beginning, I bet you're surprised that this chapter came out so quickly. Here's the answer to your burning question: I can smell that ending. I can taste that ending. Now if I can just find someone to cook it for me. Well, I doubt that's going to happen, so I guess I'll just have to do it.

I tend to delete the Author's Notes up until the last chapter after a story is completed, so I'm just going to reassure you readers that have to wait for me to type up the next chapter that I still have no intentions of shifting this story to a Seddie. The cliffhanger would be fair play if you could just hit the next chapter button, but I feel that if I let the matter hang for a couple of weeks a new faction is going to spring up on me and lynch me for my Creddie-ish ending.

For those interested in the story structure, the climax is going to come in the next chapter. By my current reckoning, the ending is either going to be in one or two chapters. See previous Author's Notes for evidence that I have been wrong in the past.

Thanks for reading up to this point! I hope you'll stick with me until the end, which shouldn't be that long at all. Get those reviews in quick if you want to try to influence the outcome of the story!

See you then.

Falling Further


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